


In My Life

by alilactree



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, Future Fic, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alilactree/pseuds/alilactree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mpreg!blaine, a very surprised Kurt, and their journey to parenthood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For about thirty seconds, all Kurt can hear is the rushing of blood and panicked pounding of his heart. Blaine is still talking, Kurt knows, because his lips are moving and his hands are wildly gesturing, but Kurt lost his ability to comprehend any type of communication, verbal or otherwise, right after the word pregnant came out of Blaine’s mouth.

“…and I guess with the wedding and school starting back up and moving to our own place I just didn’t think about the possibility of it. Such a cliche to get pregnant on our honeymoon,” Blaine says, rambling on with his words starting to run together and his voice going high-pitched and breathy. “Well, sort of.”

There’s that word again. Pregnant.

“I don’t- I can’t- I’m just-” The whooshing of blood starts again and Kurt has to close his eyes and take several deep, cleansing breaths. Even still, the only thing he can come up with in response is, “How?”

 

Blaine sits up, clasps his hands between his knees, lips pressed in and shoulders hunched. He’s scared. Well, at least that makes two of them.

“Okay, so you know how we talked about my species being almost biologically identical to yours?”

Kurt crosses his legs in front of his chest, rests his chin on his knees. “You mean when I found out my boyfriend was an alien and nearly had a coronary? That talk?”

Blaine’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a grin. “Yes, that talk. So we aren’t exactly identical.”

Kurt blinks. “Uh-huh.”

“We have very slow reproduction rates, in fact we’re fertile for a very small window of time only every seven to ten years.” 

Another set of deep, calming breaths. “Uh-huh…”

“And so males also evolved with the ability to conceive and carry offspring. It’s really a simple matter of survival of our species, if you think about it. Although, still not enough as we clearly had to find other planets with a race so similar to ours that we could interbreed before we died out completely. Also, fun fact, I have fourteen sets of ribs and no appendix.” Blaine laughs, fairly hysterically.

It dawns on Kurt that his role right now is to reassure and support Blaine but he feels frozen, dumbfounded, and like all the air has been squeezed from his lungs. His brain is firing off so many synapses at once that he can’t seem to make sense of anything.

“Just. Give me a sec to process okay?”

Blaine shifts on his chair, hunches in on himself even more, muttering out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry I should have told you.”

And just like that bright sunny day when Blaine’s hands shook and his voice wavered and he bravely told Kurt the truth about who he was and where he’d come from, Kurt knows he has two options: Run away, give in to fear and uncertainly and lose the love of his life, or stand tall and face things head-on. 

He stands, crosses the room and pulls Blaine to the foot of the bed. “Can I ask a few questions?”

“Of course,” Blaine rubs circles on the web of Kurt’s thumb and index finger.

“Is it safe?” 

“Yes. And we have doctors here. Um, if we-” He shrugs. Sniffles a bit.

“And do you want to- Do you want it, Blaine? I mean we talked about having kids at some point later on, but- I know I certainly envisioned it being much different than this.”

“I-” Blaine swallows and looks up at Kurt, and he’s worried, but there’s a steely determination in his eyes. “After initially panicking when I took the test, and then spending days on the edge of a nervous breakdown trying to figure out how to tell you, I realized that- Yes. I do.”

“Okay that’s. Okay.” And god, they have so much to discuss and figure out and Kurt’s sure his own nervous breakdown is imminent, but for now- “Just one more question.” 

Blaine’s sweaty, shaky palms hold fast to his own. “Alright.”

“Can I be Daddy?”

At first, nothing changes much. Blaine goes to the doctor once, just for confirmation and to set an appointment for an ultrasound a month later. He seems to feel fine, for the most part, a little tired, but otherwise normal. 

They go to school, they work, they make love and bicker and laugh and cook and hold hands in the park. They stop in at their usual cafes, the grocery store, the deli down the street. 

Kurt gets lulled into a state of complacency about the situation, so the difficult details of how they’re going to tell everyone or how they’ll support a baby on two student/artist/singing waiter salaries or the fact that there is an actual baby on the way are easy to just… Not think about.

Until he gets home one day from class expecting the apartment to be empty while Blaine works an evening shift at the diner, only to be greeted with the sound of someone coughing and gagging in the bathroom.

“Oh, honey,” Kurt drops to his knees, rubs Blaine’s curved back.

Blaine wipes his mouth and smiles weakly, then gasps sharp through his nose and hunches back over the toilet. Kurt turns away, clenches his jaw and tries very hard not to think about it. He pretty sure sympathy vomiting wouldn’t be very well received.

Finally Blaine flushes and stands, rinses his mouth and rests against the counter.

“All done?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods. Kurt thinks about grabbing the trashcan or offering to get something from the drugstore, but it’s not a virus, it’s not something he can fix. He’s not really sure what he should do.

Blaine heads to the couch and Kurt just sort of hovers, until he realizes Blaine should still be eating and drinking, even if he’s not keeping much down.

“The books all said morning sickness would probably start around six weeks, but I guess I’d convinced myself I wouldn’t get it.”

Kurt hands him a glass of juice and some crackers. “Is it bad?”

“I had to leave work pretty quickly. Hopefully I’ll figure out how to deal with it better but-” He sips his juice and grimaces. “This tastes off.”

Kurt frowns and takes it back, sniffing it then sipping some. It tastes like orange juice. He decides it’s not worth it to argue and heads back to the kitchen to get a bottle of water instead. Blaine drinks it down like a man recently picked up in the middle of the Sahara, but nibbles at his crackers with disinterest.

Kurt settles on the couch next to him carefully. Blaine sighs and leans over to rest his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “You need to eat,” Kurt says.

“I will,” Blaine replies.

And then, because the time of sweeping things under the rug and not talking about them seems to have passed rather abruptly, Kurt says, “Maybe it’s time to tell the parents.”

Telling Blaine’s parents turns out to be relatively easy; they’re concerned with Blaine’s schooling and their financial situation and young age, but the pregnancy itself is no big deal. 

Blaine’s mother cuts into her salmon and levels a look at Blaine’s father. “The number of times I wished I could have gotten your father pregnant instead…” Blaine groans and goes a little pale. Kurt pats his knee under the table. “They were both very active babies.” She takes a bite then spreads her hands apart. “Big heads too.”

But it’s worth the mortification when Blaine’s father hands them a check for “whatever the baby needs” and his mother cups Blaine’s face and murmurs something to him in a sweet, lilting language Kurt doesn’t understand. Blaine’s eyes go soft and damp and he smiles in a genuine, relieved way that Kurt realizes he hasn’t seen in a while. 

“Okay?” Kurt asks, hands swinging between them as they walk to their car.

Blaine turns to him, smiles again and replies, “You know, I think we will be.”

Kurt imagines his dad will be a much harder sell.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they make it across town to Kurt’s old house Blaine looks exhausted; forehead resting against the window and eyes slipped low. Kurt sends him to take a nap, just explains to his dad and Carole that Blaine has been a bit under the weather.

Kurt catches them both up on New York and school and married life so far. Burt talks about the garage and sports and a weekly poker night he’s started with some buddies. 

“It’s pretty high-stakes,” Burt says with pride, and Carole snorts. 

“You bet with pennies and nickels.”

Burt circles the TV remote in her direction. “Hey I didn’t hear you complaining about the fancy date I took you on with my big winnings.”

She takes the remote, rolls her eyes and flips the channel away from SportsCenter. “Yeah all fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents.”

The stairs creak then and Blaine shuffles into the room, rumpled and sleepy with red creases from the pillow still on his cheeks. “Hi,” he greets.

The sudden rush of warm affection for him is so strong it feels like a wave cresting over Kurt, pulling him into the undertow. He jumps up, guides Blaine to the couch and kisses the top of his head. “I’m gonna go make you a smoothie.”

He’s pleased to find blueberries and bananas and almond milk, even throws in a handful of spinach for extra nutrients. Blaine’s appetite is still not great, and the morning sickness is holding fast, so whatever Blaine does eat, Kurt wants to make sure it counts.

When Kurt comes back and hands the glass with a bendy straw to Blaine, Carole cocks her head and gives them both a very long, considering look.

Kurt clears his throat, sits up tall, and gets to what needs to be done. “So I have a confession: This visit is not purely for pleasure.”

Blaine shifts on the couch next to him, free hand coming to cross over his abdomen unconsciously. 

“I knew it!” Burt says. “You’ve been made an editor at that magazine, right?”

“No,” Kurt replies.

“You got a starring role in a play. Or Blaine did! Or you both did!” He snaps the footrest down on his chair and leans close, eyes wide.

“Dad, no,” Kurt says, holding up a hand. “I mean, I appreciate your faith in us and everything but no, nothing like that.”

And how does one even begin to explain what the situation is? How many times has he rehearsed what to say and how to say it and which piece of shocking news is the least shocking: the alien part or the pregnancy part, or if there is even a difference. So he just blurts it out.

“Blaine is not human.”

The silence is so heavy that Kurt swears he could reach out and press his palm against it. Blaine sets his empty glass down with a clunk. 

“He’s a robot right?” Burt ventures finally, fingers steepled under his chin. “No one has that kind of energy, it’s not possible, I always thought so.”

Carole stays quiet at his side, watching. 

“No, he’s not-”

“Or, oh! Part robot. What’s that called again? Like in The Terminator?”

“Cyborg,” Blaine pipes up helpfully.

“Right he’s a cyborg.” Burt sits back with finality and Kurt sighs and pinches his nose.

“I honestly can’t tell how much he’s messing with me.” Kurt looks to Carole who smiles encouragingly. “I know exactly how crazy this sounds and I just need you to go with me here, okay? Blaine is-”

But then Blaine speaks up, in the same soft, gentle tone he used with Kurt when he confessed to him. “Mr. Hummel, Mrs. Hummel. Do you believe in life on other planets?” They both shrug and nod. “And that there could be other planets just like earth, with a species who have evolved just like humans?” He looks to Kurt. “Or, almost just like humans.”

“Yeah I guess…” Burt says, sitting forward with interest again. 

“Well it’s as simple as that.” Blaine laces his fingers together, juts his chin.

The silence settles in again and Kurt feels in danger of being suffocated by it, so he steels himself and says, “Blaine is not from here and he is-” swallows and breathes, “He is pregnant.”

Burt blinks and blinks, then bursts into laughter. “Okay, good one.”

But Carole gives them that look again, reaching over to squeeze Blaine’s knee. Blaine startles, then covers her hand with his own. “I believe them,” she says. “I can tell. A mother can tell.”

And for whatever reason, that seems to turn the tide. Burt pulls off his hat, sinks back into his chair and says, “Well, alright then.” And that’s that.

For the rest of the visit they get several funny looks and a lot of questions, which is fair enough. Kurt still has a lot of questions. But by the end of the weekend Burt is slinging an arm over each of their shoulders and grinning. “A grandbaby to spoil. This’ll be fun.”

Kurt holds up a finger, “Wait, who said anything about spoiling?”

Burt hooks his arm tighter around Kurt and ruffles his hair as Blaine laughs and Carole coos something about it being a little girl, dare she hope. Kurt huffs and protests, but he can feel it now too. Maybe Blaine is right. Maybe they will be okay.

They both manage to get off work for the ten week ultrasound, hopping on two trains out to the Bronx, then a bus to an office building that has seen better days. Kurt presses close to Blaine and looks around warily, but inside everything is clean and bright and warm.

It looks like some kind of family practice; a tired looking father with three kids in a corner coloring at a little table with tiny chairs, an elderly couple flipping though worn magazines, a woman with a baby carrier at her feet, chubby-cheeked infant fast asleep inside. Kurt nudges Blaine with his elbow, and Blaine looks over with a grin.

Blaine gets called back to get his vitals, give a urine sample and check his weight. Kurt stretches out his legs and looks around. It looks like any other doctor’s office, really, off-white textured wallpaper and blurry impressionist style art hung on the walls. Sturdy plastic chairs lined along the perimeter and in rows across the room. But it must be a catch-all sort of place for Blaine’s species, and for the first time Kurt shifts uncomfortably at the idea of being the odd one out. 

“Mr. Hummel?” A nurse pokes her head out from the heavy wooden door. “You can join your husband now.” She guides him into a tiny room, Blaine already settled on the paper-covered examining table. “Doctor Maureen will be here in just a moment.”

Kurt rummages in the items on the counter, tongue depressors and cotton balls and gauze and a box of latex gloves. Pretty standard. Blaine shifts on the table and the paper crinkles loudly in the silence.

“I bet the baby looks like an alien right now.”

Kurt turns and gapes at him and Blaine ducks his head with a grin and huff of laughter.

“Very funny,” Kurt says with narrowed eyes. He spends the rest of the time studying a chart that says Earth-Borne Diseases and How To Avoid Them and ignoring Blaine’s teasing.

“Well!” The doctor breezes in after what seems to be an endless stretch of time, her gray hair twisted into a bun and white coat swishing as she shuts the door. “Interspecies and a double male offspring how exciting!” Blaine looks at Kurt from the examining table and Kurt raises an eyebrow in response. The doctor sets down Blaine’s file and sits on her stool. “I get to give a presentation about you two!”

“Um…congratulations?” Kurt replies. 

“Indeed!” Dr. Maureen beams at them, then claps her hands. “Okay, so we’re going to do an ultrasound and get a solid due date, and hopefully the little one will cooperate and let us see the heartbeat!”

She cheerfully instructs Blaine to lie back and wheels a machine over with a,“Cold goop coming at you!” and squirts something onto Blaine’s stomach that makes him hiss. Kurt has to wonder if the woman ever doesn’t speak in thrilled exclamations. 

But when she runs the wand over Blaine belly and starts to click at the keys on the machine, things turn more somber.

The more she clicks and moves the wand and frowns, the more Kurt starts to fret, reaching for Blaine’s hand and trying to keep his rising panic down for Blaine’s sake. What if something is wrong? Then what?

“Okay!” The doctor finally says, turning the screen so they both can see. It just looks like a bunch of grainy black and white blobs as far as Kurt can tell. He squints and leans closer. “See that little peanut looking thing there? That’s your baby!”

It’s barely even anything, maybe an inch long, and Kurt can hardly even make it out at first. But it’s there, with an unmistakable tiny fluttering heartbeat. Their baby. “Wow,” Kurt breathes. 

And then his eyes are so blurred with tears he can’t see much of anything at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine’s appetite returns with a vengeance a few days into the second trimester. 

“I can’t stop thinking about Lo Mein,” he announces, dropping his satchel and slipping off his shoes. “That’s weird, right? Like all day it just pops into my head, you know what would be good? Lo Mein.” 

Kurt hmmms and pats the couch next to him. Blaine sits propped on the armrest, plops his feet in Kurt’s lap and wiggles his socked toes for Kurt to rub. He looks better, Kurt notices, radiating his usual energy and brilliance, but more so. Like he’s…well. Like he’s glowing, Kurt supposes. 

“I know we don’t have any room in the budget for takeout, but…” Blaine wheedles with a pout.

“I think we can scrounge up a little extra for your Lo Mein needs.”

Blaine cheers and makes the call while Kurt digs into the soft arches of his feet. He places the order, a little breathless, then finally hangs up the phone and drops it onto the table with a groan. “That feels amazing.” 

And that is something Kurt hasn’t heard in a while. With Kurt worrying most the time and Blaine either exhausted or sick or both, intimacy has been scarce.

“So…” Kurt says, one hand drifting up Blaine’s calf, fingers skirting the inside of his thigh. “I see you’re feeling better.”

“Mmmm. Thank god,” Blaine drops his head back, shudders a sigh.

“Are you feeling much better?”

Blaine drops his head against the couch, opens one eye and smirks, “get over here,” then tugs Kurt over his body.

Blaine doesn’t waste time with tentative, gentle kissing. It’s like he’s hungry for Kurt, too, desperate for him after so long without. Kurt stays propped up on one knee and both arms, his other leg planted on the floor as Blaine’s hands grab and grope everywhere, legs bent and dropping wide, hips canting into the space between them.

“Kurt,” he whines, pulling at Kurt’s waist, pulling him down by the hips. “Come on, you won’t hurt me.”

Kurt sits back and sighs, scrubs his hands over his face. Blood is pumping hot through his veins, pulsing persistently in his groin. “I know, I know. Just- Humor me?” Kurt sits back against the couch, fumbles his belt and pants open.

Blaine licks his lips. “Yeah, okay.” He crawls over, kisses Kurt hard and open.

“Wait.” Blaine drops his head to Kurt’s shoulder and groans. Kurt soothes him with a hand down his spine, over the curve of his ass. “Take your pants off, then humor me.”

Blaine hastily complies. Things are going well, amazing even, Blaine heavy and warm on his lap, his cock pressing along Kurt’s stomach. Kurt is burning up still fully dressed and fevered with want. Kurt grips his ass, presses two fingers in circles against his hole-

Then someone knocks on the door. 

“Shit,” Kurt says, tearing his mouth away from Blaine’s to look at the door, only to have Blaine attach his lips to Kurt’s throat. 

“Honey, that’s dinner,” Kurt whimpers, not really making much effort to stop him. Blaine’s head pops up, eyes comically wide. 

“Lo Mein,” he whispers, like a madman caught in a spiral of his most fevered desires. 

“Okay, up.” Kurt smacks his ass, and Blaine squeaks and tips to the side.

Kurt is really in no state to answer the door; pants slung low and cock straining against the triangle of revealed underwear. He slips on his fluffiest robe, quickly grabs a wad of ones and fives from tips, and opens the door just enough.

“That’ll be fourteen seventy-”

“Keep the change, have a nice night,” Kurt shouts, quickly exchanging for the food mostly blind, hiding behind the door and slamming it closed.

He sets the food on the counter as Blaine laughs, “Your voice was like two octaves higher than usual.”

Kurt scowls. Like Blaine is one to talk, naked from the waist down and cock jutting out. “Shut up and get the lube,” Kurt replies, taking off the robe. Then everything else.

Kurt has to admit he wondered if it would feel different, if he wouldn’t be able to get past the pregnancy and just focus on Blaine, being with Blaine like this. But pressing inside him again feel incredible, everything tight and hot, and Blaine so eager, bouncing on his lap and making high whimpering sounds.

Kurt kisses along his neck, his collarbones, dips down to lick across a nipple. Blaine hisses and jolts.

“Sensitive,” he breathes out. 

Kurt watches the bulge of his thighs as he works himself on Kurt’s cock, brings both hands to his ribcage. “Good sensitive or bad sensitive?”

“Um,” Blaine looks down and Kurt dares another soft lick. “Fu-uck. Good. Very Good.”

And everything is building, drawing up tight in his stomach and his balls. Blaine grips the back of the couch, changes the angle, leans over and- sniffs?

“Are you thinking about Lo Mein while mid-coitus?” Kurt pants.

“No,” A sly grin and deep inhale. “Mmm…maybe a little.”

Kurt growls, seals his mouth over Blaine’s nipple and his hand around his cock, sucks hard and jerks him fast. Then Blaine is coming with a shout, body curling around Kurt as Kurt plants his feet and fucks into him with sharp snaps of his hips and follows soon after.

It’s not until they’ve cleaned up and dressed in sweats and t-shirts and sat down with two plates of lukewarm noodles that Kurt starts to worry.

“Are you… alright?”

“I am fantastic,” Blaine says around a mouthful of food. Which is so unlike him that Kurt does an actual double take.

“But I mean…” Kurt gestures to Blaine’s general abdominal area. 

“Kurt,” and this time he swallows and sets down his chopsticks. “You aren’t going to break me. I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

“Alright, got it.” Kurt opens his fortune cookie, reads out loud, “Love will lead the way. Fitting. What’s yours say?”

Blaine scarfs down more noodles, opens his while still chewing. “A surprise is waiting for you.”

Kurt snorts. “No kidding.”

After that it’s like a switch is flipped. Blaine is energetic and bubbly, and that makes Kurt relaxed and happy. He eats with enthusiasm and vigor, eagerly greets each day, bustling around school and work and home before passing out cold on the couch at eight thirty every night. He also can’t seem to keep his hands or his mouth off Kurt, which certainly helps. 

They stay in New York for the holidays, spending time with friends, Skyping in both of their parents on Christmas morning. It’s quiet and simple, and Kurt goes warm all over thinking about what next Christmas will be like. What kind of traditions they’ll start with their own little family. Something like excitement bubbles in his chest for the first time, all the worry starting to break up and fizzle away, bit by bit.

School goes on winter break, so Kurt picks up some extra shifts at the diner, auditions for a few small parts in some small plays. Blaine takes up yoga, and Kurt finds him stretching and bending in clinging workout pants and a loose tank top after a callback one evening.

“How’d it go?” Blaine beams at him in tree pose, the picture of zen.

“Pretty great actually.” He sidles in close, kisses Blaine as his body bends to drape around Kurt, loose and flushed.

“We should celebrate then,” Blaine says, hips slotting against Kurt’s and making a slow circle. 

“Yes,” Kurt agrees. “But we should go out.”

Blaine groans.

Kurt sets his hands low in Blaine’s hips. “We haven’t gone out in forever. Let’s get all fancy and go somewhere we can’t actually afford and spend the whole meal acting like it’s totally beneath us.” 

Blaine laughs. “That does sound fun.”

Kurt bounces on his toes and bites his lip. “Okay go get fancy!”

Blaine showers and fixes his hair in the bathroom while Kurt gets dressed, then they switch so Kurt can respray his hair and moisturize and dab on cologne. 

He goes all out: vest and cufflinks, brooch and ascot and silk pocket square. It really has been too long, and Kurt feels heady with decadence and pomp. He knows Blaine is just as eager as he is, but when he gets back to the bedroom Blaine is sitting forlorn on the edge of the bed in his underwear with his dress shirt unbuttoned and hanging open.

“Hey, if we don’t hurry we’re going to end up waiting like two hours, come on.” Kurt says, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. Blaine looks up with eyes so big and sad that Kurt’s heart drops. “What’s wrong?”

Blaine holds up a handful of rejected clothes. “None of my pants fit.”

Kurt unthinkingly replies, “Aww. Baby belly.”

“No, not aww.” Blaine stands, gathers up a pile of clothes and throws them on the floor. “I don’t have anything to wear. I can’t go out in sweatpants! I can’t go out all…” frowns down at himself. “All bloated.”

“Okay.” Kurt gathers up and starts to fold all of the pants Blaine has been so harshly betrayed by. “You are not bloated. I mean, you knew this was coming, right?”

Blaine sighs. “I guess I just thought it would be like, a cute little bump. Not this.”

Kurt holds a pair of dress slacks to his chest and looks him over. It’s true, the little curve of belly he always has is just a bit more pronounced, and where his waist is usually slim and tapered in has noticeably thickened.

Kurt tips his head. “Give me twenty minutes.” 

He digs out his sewing machine and the box of fabric scraps tucked away in their tiny bedroom closet, sets them on the desk and goes to work. Blaine watches from the bed, face still twisted in frustration. 

Finally Kurt stands and twirls around, says, “Ta-da!” and brandishes the slacks at him.

Blaine stands and takes them, tugs at the discreet elastic panel Kurt has stitched into the back of the waistband. 

“Just put one of your longer blazers over it and no one will ever know.”

Blaine dresses, buttoning the pants with a little grunt, then holds his arms out and spins. And Kurt was right, with the lines of the blazer and all but the bottom button done up he really doesn’t look any different at all. But still his face is stormy and drawn.

“You don’t like it,” Kurt says. He really thought he’d done a very impressive fix.

“No it’s fine,” Blaine replies, too quickly. Kurt drops to the bed, crosses one leg over the other and tucks his fingers over a knee. Blaine fidgets and sighs and pulls at a tiny string coming loose from a hem. Kurt raises his eyebrows and waits him out.

“I’m just- I don’t want you to think I’m unhappy or I don’t want the baby or-” he looks up with a deep frown. “Can’t babies sense stress? It’s bad for them, right?”

“Sweetie I’m pretty sure you’re still allowed to have feelings. Sushi, no. But feelings are okay.”

Blaine sits and rubs his palms on his thighs and stares at his lap. “I’m scared sometimes. And I know it’s weird for you, but it’s pretty strange for me too and it’s a big deal. Huge. Like really, really huge.”

“No, huge was parachute pants making a comeback.” Kurt ducks to catch his eye. “But two people as smart and determined and devastatingly handsome as we are? We’ve totally got this parenting thing.”

Blaine mouth twists into a smile and he looks up with a gust of air. “So you aren’t scared?”

“Oh I’m terrified,” Kurt says casually. “But the important thing is that we’re terrified together.”


	4. Chapter 4

It’s not until Blaine is heading into the third trimester that they finally tell everyone else. He still isn’t showing much, just enough that Kurt can feel a noticeable rise when he runs his hand over Blaine’s belly while he cooks or they’re studying together or after sex, which is starting to fizzle out of that frantic hormone crazed craving Blaine was overtaken by. 

And with Kurt’s knowledge of fabrics and creating a silhouette, it really just looks like Blaine has put on a bit of winter padding. No one with any tact mentions it, which means Santana finds ways to bring it up in casual conversation on occasion. And Tina keeps pestering Blaine to go on a juice cleanse with her.

They host a game night at their place, and after a raucous game of Pictionary that gets really ugly really fast, Kurt claps his hands and stands in the center of the living room to make the announcement to everyone who could make it.

“We’re expecting a baby this summer.” 

Instead of tense silence like there was following disclosure to their parents, the room bursts into cheers and questions and shouts.

“You actually trust this group with an infant?” Santana shouts above the fray, from her spot on the armchair, legs draped over and glass of wine in one hand.

Kurt shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Hey, I’m great with kids!” Sam protests, jumping off the floor. “Oh! I call guardian in case you both snuff it.”

“Obviously I’m guardian,” Rachel says. She stands to hug Kurt, then Blaine, who is watching with a quiet bemusement. “Can I meet the surrogate? Is she a Pippa Middleton look-alike like you were hoping?”

“Wait a sec,” Tina demands, slamming her wine glass down so hard Kurt winces. “Why does Rachel get to be guardian?”

Then they’re spared from any further questioning by the argument that breaks out over who can and cannot be trusted to avoid scarring the child for life and then there’s some sort of diagram of everyone’s worst traits up on the drawing pad, and if Kurt thought Pictionary was ugly-

“You know who’s looking like a solid choice for guardian right now?” Blaine says, leaning over with a stage whisper. “Mercedes.”

Kurt looks at their chosen family, some of the people that will love and nurture their child, be there for them when things get tough. He nods. “I’ll call her in the morning.” 

"It really isn’t like our offspring to be so camera shy,” Kurt comments, back in the doctors office for another ultrasound. Outside the window the bare, scrabbly trees are hopeful with tiny green buds, a few birds flutter about with tentative trills. 

“Maybe today’s the day, you know waiting for the perfect moment, building anticipation.” Blaine walks his fingers up the side of his belly.

“That does sound like us,” Kurt agrees. They still haven’t been able to determine the gender. The first time the baby was turned away, curled up tight like a shy, still-slumbering blossom. But they could see a tiny fist balled up close to the little face, which was by far the cutest thing Kurt had ever seen.

The doctor printed out a picture of it and they made it the second page of the baby’s scrapbook, right after the the fuzzy peanut picture.

“How are my two favorite daddies?” Dr. Maureen swoops in. Kurt tends to think of her as a very cheerful hurricane. “Alright, before we take a peek let’s talk about complications!”

She wheels her stool over with a series of grating squeals of metal. She pulls a measuring tape from her pocket, then stands to stretch it across Blaine’s abdomen from top to bottom. 

“Complications?” Kurt wonders, standing at Blaine’s head, wedged between the examining table and the cold cinderblock wall.

“Mmhmm.” She prods his belly, feels for the shape of the baby resting inside. “As the pouch isn’t quite the gestational powerhouse that a uterus is, male carriers are at a higher risk for small babies.” She snaps the tape back with a grin.

“I’m sorry- Pouch? Like…a seahorse?”

He helps Blaine into a sitting position, tugs his shirt back over the bulge of his belly. 

“A seahorse! That’s delightful!” The doctor says. “Yes, I suppose you could think of it like that, but internal. And it’s up higher and more towards the back of the abdominal cavity. Due to this, the outward protrusion is not quite as pronounced, but on the flip side, the babies have less room to grow.”

“And that’s a problem?” Blaine asks.

“It can be. Small babies may have trouble regulating their body temperature, or the lungs may not be quite as developed. I just want you to be prepared for the possibility of a short NICU stay, just to give the baby a little more time to mature.”

She brings the ultrasound machine over and shakes the bottle of goop for the wand. “Now let’s get in between those legs!”

May comes in warm and sunny and a long, all-consuming race to get things done. Not only are Blaine’s appointments more frequent, but they both have finals and are working as much as possible now to pad their savings account for when they can’t. There’s a baby shower and shopping and rearranging- the small apartment being rapidly taken over by various objects adorned with cheerful rainbow hued animals, a bouncy seat and swing and toys that all seem to play the same treacly cheerful music, and what Blaine has started to tersely refer to as “pink disease.” 

The grandmothers-to-be have been busy, to say the least.

“More clothes from Carole!” Blaine calls while Kurt brushes his teeth in the bathroom. “She does know we’re only having just the one, right?”

Kurt spits and rinses and pads barefoot to the living room. Every window in the house is wide open, every fan turned on high and facing Blaine on the bed. “Not like we’re any better. How many ballet flats does one tiny baby need?”

“Probably zero,” Blaine answers, setting the box to the side. He grimaces and shifts, poking his now impressively round belly, tank top stretched over the swell of it with a strip of skin where it doesn’t cover completely. “There’s a body part in my lungs.”

Kurt flops next to him, hand spread over to feel the baby wriggle and shift inside. It’s not a feeling he ever seems to be less in awe of. “Don’t suffocate your Papa, baby.”

Blaine tucks both legs underneath him, tucks more pillows behind his back, then reaches out to scratch his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “What do you think about Ava?”

Kurt wrinkles his nose and Blaine sighs. “At this rate her name is going to be Baby if we can’t agree on something soon.”

“Good enough for Jennifer Grey…” Kurt sits up. “Okay, um. Madge.”

“No.” 

“Liza? Bernadette? Patti?”

“Now you’re just naming Broadway divas.”

“And?” 

“How about Sophia,” Blaine tries. Kurt ughs and drapes himself sideways across the bed. “What? That’s a beautiful name!”

“It is. So beautiful, in fact, that nine out of ten little girls in New York City are named Sophia. Can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a Sophia around here.”

“Fine,” Blaine huffs. 

The conversation seems to haunt them like a very annoying ghost through the rest of the month. Late at night when Blaine can’t sleep because of heartburn or insomnia or back pain or all three, and Blaine suggests Olivia or Colette and Kurt shrugs a mostly asleep maybe. In the mornings when Blaine is in the shower and Kurt pokes his head in to say “Ethel!” and Blaine steps to the side so the spray hits Kurt’s shirt.

A no on Ethel. 

Blaine goes through a flower phase. Lily then Violet then Rose, even Tulip and Lavender are thrown in the ring. Kurt has a brief flirtation with precious gems: Opal, Ruby, Jade. 

They finish the school year and Blaine takes a leave from work to spend the summer home with the baby, does one final open mic night.

Even though it’s Blaine who should be nesting, it’s Kurt who rewashes and refolds and reorganizes every single article of clothing, burp cloths and blankets and diapers. Deep cleans the fridge and oven, and vacuums anything with even a hint of dirt or crumbs or dust, as if making everything perfect means nothing can go wrong, nothing can be wrong, everything will be okay.

Kurt needs them both to be okay.

The C-section is scheduled for June first.

“That’s a great look for you,” Blaine croaks, supine on an operating table, small and pale, surgical cap on his head and gown clad body hidden by a curtain from the chest down.

Kurt smooths down his paper gown and puffy cap over his head, sits on his designated stool and rests his forehead against Blaine’s. He tries to radiate calm and comfort, even though he’s panicky with nerves. “It suits you pretty well too. I’ll have to keep it in mind when I pitch my line next month.”

“Let’s get this party started!” The doctor’s head pops up from behind the surgical curtain with what appears to be a scalpel in her hand.

Kurt widens his eyes and shakes his head, then turns to focus on Blaine, thumb stroking his temple, other hand holding his in a vice grip, whispering encouragement and love. 

Outside Blaine’s parents and Kurt’s dad and Carole wait, their friends all stand by for a phone call; everyone and everything on the brink. But here it is just them, the world focused onto him and Blaine, breathing and hoping and waiting in the freezing white glare of an operating room, until a cry startles them both.

And then the entire world is just her.


End file.
